Blood Run (34 page)

The doors swung closed.

The newly turned vampire roared in frustration as the three hospital workers split off in three directions, zigzagging through the lab. It stood still for a second, its head swinging stupidly from left to right, confused and enraged.

Peter took the instant of confusion and pulled Dr. Edwards further into the depths of the lab. He had to fight his own building rage, which seemed to be in answer to the vampire’s screams. Something in Peter was urging him to fight, to guard Promise and Edwards…but he couldn’t tell if it was more from a sense of defending the people he loved or defending his territory…his
dinner
options.

He pushed the thought aside and opened one of the low, wide cabinet doors that ran along under the table. He reached in and swept beakers, a Bunsen burner and racks and racks of vials out onto the floor in one violent, jingling crash. “Get in there,” he said, his hand on the back of Edwards’ neck, pushing him down and in. A deep, nasty part of his mind enjoyed the sensation of manhandling the doctor as easily as a man might handle a five-pound pup. “You won’t be able to hold the door closed so just stay absolutely quiet. Okay?”

Peter’s ‘okay?’ was punctuated by a scream and a jingling crash from the far side of the lab. The vampire must have caught someone. One of the women, from the sound of it.

Edwards’ eyes were wide in the dark, his mouth working as his pupils darted side to side. He was hunched uncomfortably, his chin pressed against his chest, just barely squeezed into the cabinet.

An underground rivulet of giggles began to bubble darkly in Peter’s gut. He wanted to laugh at Edwards’ obvious distress; his blindly…frantically…searching eyes. It was funny how vulnerable the doctor looked, how delicate, how thin-skinned and–

Peter tumbled backwards onto his butt and kicked the door closed with a snap, shaken by his conflicting thoughts: light and dark, angel and demon, high road and low road. The monster inside him felt very near to the surface. Very strong. The screaming and the smell of the blood…it was overwhelming. He groaned as liquid heat spread from his heart, pulsing outward, setting him on fire inside. The alienness of his own blood seemed at first an affront, devastating as it began to eat at his consciousness, his humanity; then he began to like the burning.

He let it take him.

From the back of the lab came the crash of a table being overturned, and then a man’s voice called out, “No! No! Keep away! Nooooo–” His agonized protestations were cut off with a crunch.

Peter closed his eyes and breathed deep. His growing incisors pushed delicate indentations into his lower lip, and from his near left there came another scream–the third woman. Her scream was followed by a splash, and the hot scent of blood washed over him. His eyes sprung open, blazing orange fire. The former Guardsman stood ten feet away, his black uniform shiny with blood, face covered with gore. He considered Peter with head-tilted confusion, smelling the vampire/human combination. He swiped a hand across his own face, dislodging the worst of the mess and stepped closer. It was Billet…one of the soldiers they’d traveled with from Wereburg.

Peter threw his head back and howled with rage.

Promise had been listening to the chaos below her with growing distress. She felt cut off, completely blind in the pitch black; the dim emergency lighting didn’t reach into the area above the ceiling tiles.

She heard a moan; it sounded like Peter. Was he okay? Was Edwards okay? And how would she even know if they weren’t?

Her hand went to the ceiling tile suspended below her. She picked at the fibrous edge, fumbling as the tile flaked away beneath her fingertips. It was heavy and set low in its frame. She’d have to use both hands. She made sure the weight of her upper torso was centered on the beam and then reached down. Her fingers felt along the edge, searching for a solid area to lift and slide the tile. She would just give herself an inch to see through…just an inch. That was all. Just enough to see if Peter was okay, or–

A howl from below startled her into jerking her hands back. The tile lifted and then dropped at an angle, leaving a triangular gap three inches wide at the widest end. The red emergency light filtered in, glinting across her eyes. Now she could see into the dimly shadowed lab…and it looked like a mad scientist’s conjuring of hell.

Broken glass sparkled dully from thick-looking puddles that could have been water, chemicals or blood…all would have looked the same under the red lights. Overturned stools and tables threw strange, jumbled shadows and papers had been strewn about like some giant’s oversized, joyless confetti.

A body flew across her limited sightline, blurred with speed. She thought it was Peter. She strained to see more, turning her head sharply and closing one eye. Two figures rolled together, hissing and growling. For a second she could see Peter’s fair head, the back of his T-shirt, then they rolled again, and she saw the black uniform of a Guard soldier. There was a body in a white lab coat near them. Edwards? Promise blinked as sweat ran into her open eye, and she rubbed it viciously, terrified of even a split second’s blindness.

She opened her still-stinging eye, and Peter and the soldier were no longer in her view, but she could hear as they crashed through the lab. The body in the lab coat was still there, and Promise stared hard at it, trying to make her eyes resolve what she was seeing, worried that it was Edwards. But once her eyes adjusted, she could see that the person below her was too slight to be Edwards. It was one of the women who’d been chased in by the vampire. Promise was both sickened and relieved.

A ululating scream came from somewhere near the back of the lab. It sounded like the vampire was in trouble. Was Peter winning? He must be. He
must
be winning.

Promise’s mind went to Ash and Snow. She hoped they were safe, and she also wondered how she’d ever get Ash out of here and home. They were so far from Wereburg, and now her chances of ever getting back there…they seemed slim at best. She felt her throat wanting to close up, tears stinging at the edges of her eyelids.

She swallowed the tears, forcing herself to keep her mind on the present. She had to get through this second by second. There was no other way. She looked down. She gasped.

Billet stood directly below her hiding spot. He was looking up through the gap in the ceiling tile. He grinned when he realized she’d seen him. The grin was red. Deadly. He leapt lightly to the table below her and began to rise, his face less than four feet from hers, now less than three.

Promise pulled in a breath to scream. Billet’s eyes danced and swirled, and his grin, now that she could see him clearly through the gap, was pitted and flecked with gore, the spaces between his teeth black and shining. His chin was slick with blood, and it had dried to a crumbling mustache over his lip. As his grin widened, the dried blood first cracked in hundreds of small fissures and then the flakes peeled up and sailed away.

Promise shifted, trying to find the next beam with her feet, reaching back with first her left leg, then her right. Nothing. Nothing close enough to slide to. She was stuck unless she wanted to take a chance on falling straight through the tiles and down.

She was trapped.

Billet jumped, and his fingers, long nailed and ghostly pale, slid into the gap, momentarily hiding his demonic face from her view. He grasped the leading edge of the tile and yanked. It broke on the diagonal in a ragged line and tumbled from its brace. The missing tile exposed Promise from her head to her waist.

He jumped again and reached for her, now close enough that she was misted in the hot veil of his exhale. It was fetid and wet and somehow sticky as though it would cling to her like spider webbing. Her stomach rolled as he sank back out of sight.

He jumped again, hissing.

She pushed herself back, panicked and unthinking, and jackknifed, nearly falling from the beams that held her weight. The beams shook, and in the case next to her, the vials chattered anxiously. The sound cut into her panic. Without the cure, all was lost. She reached out a shaking hand to steady the case.

Below her, Billet crouched, ready to jump again.

He jumped.

Peter leaped from the darkness, catching Billet across the middle, tackling him in mid-air. The force of the impact sent them both tumbling off the table and crashing out of Promise’s view.

She screamed.

Below her, a cabinet door swung open and Edwards rolled out, gasping and groaning. He lay on his back, panting. His right hand grasped his left arm high up, almost in his armpit, squeezing and massaging.

“Doctor Edwards,” Promise whisper-yelled down to him. “Are you okay?” The fight continued somewhere in the back of the lab. Promise would have thought everything had already been broken, but fresh, glassy crashes told her otherwise. Edwards groaned, and he clutched his chest, both his hands over his left pec, like a man declaring his love.

She had to get him back into hiding.

She shifted her weight forward until it was across the beam at her waist, then brought her legs off the other beam and straining, let them dangle into the opening. Then she dropped back, letting herself fall off the beam until she hung by her hands. She looked down, checking for the table, then let go.

She landed on the table as softly as she could and then crouched, scanning the room behind her. Crashes and random glittering, but at least the fight was on the far side of the lab table. If she could get Edwards back into the cupboard…

She scrambled off the table and kneeled next to the doctor.

“Dr. Edwards?” she whispered, trying to slide her hands under his shoulders. “I have to get you back in the cabinet. The vampire is still–”

He shook his head and groaned. “No,” he said, his voice a rough gasp. “I can’t go back in there. It’s my…my heart. I’m having a…heart attack. I need a pill…my nitro…nitro…glycerine.”

Promise felt her own heart squeeze in horrified sympathy. In the darkness on the other side of the lab table a tremendous crash shook the walls.

“Where are your pills…are they here in the lab somewhere or…?” Her voice shook as she tried to brush the hair back from Doctor Edwards’ flushed face. She didn’t know how she’d be able to get his pills if they were back in his room–wherever that was–but she would try. If that would save him.

“In my…my pocket…a tin with…” he said, his voice failing. His hand shook spasmodically near the side of his lab coat, fumbling at the opening but unable to navigate even that wide pocket. “Under…under my tongue…one pill…hurry…”

Anxious hope swept through her as she reached into his pocket. Her fingers encountered a small tin, and she pulled it out, opening it with her thumb even as it cleared the fabric. Another crash, closer, near the side of the lab, caused the drop ceiling to shake above them, sending down bits of tile. The vials jingled in their case, and Promise looked up. They were slipping off the beam. She gasped and fumbled the tin. Tiny pills spilled across the floor, rolling away into darkness.

“No!” she cried and slapped her hand down over the pills. She pinched one in her fingers and looked up again. The case was still on the beam.

She bent to Edwards. “I have the pill! Open your mouth!”

He was too far gone into the pain to hear her. His jaws were clenched tight.

She pried his mouth open with one hand, and he tried to twist his head to the side. “I’m sorry!” Promise cried. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was unaware of them. She fished for the meat of his tongue and held it even as the hard ridges of his teeth tried–weakly–to clamp down. She slipped the pill into his mouth with her other hand, tucking it under his tongue and withdrawing her fingers. She counted in her head…one…two…three… oh god, please, please let it work…four…five…

His face flushed a bright red. His eyes opened, and he gasped.

Promise felt a squeeze of joy, and her hands fluttered near his cheeks. “Dr. Edwards? Is that better? Do you feel–”

Another crash caused the drop ceiling to shake violently. The thin wires holding it up began to snap, and tiles, the metal framework, and fluorescent lights began to smash down all over the lab. Promise threw herself forward over Doctor Edwards, protecting him from the debris.

Above her, she heard the case begin to jingle on the heavier crossbeam, the vials jouncing in their individual slots.

Then silence.

The case–the
cure
–was falling.

Chapter 9

A black boot slapped into view next to Doctor Edwards’ head, and Promise gasped. Billet. He’d defeated Peter, and now he would kill them…or worse.

A bolt of anger rolled through Promise like an explosion. The unfairness of it–after capturing Chance, riding for ten days to get here, having the cure
in her grasp
–only to be killed by that bloodsucker? No. No way. She rolled over, determined to fight. She would die before she let herself be turned.

Evans stood above her, the case in his hands. He’d caught it in mid-air as it fell.

“Did you need this?” he asked and gave her a shaky, slantwise grin.

She tried to smile back. “Ev?” she said, as though unable to believe her eyes.

He crouched next to her, drawing the case into his chest for safety. “Hi,” he said, and now his smile evened out, becoming warm. Earnest. His best face, even in the dim, red light of the lab. “Yeah, it’s me. Remember what I told you?”

She nodded, and he blurred in front of her. She realized she was crying. “I remember,” she said and sat up. She put her arms around his neck, and he squeezed her back one-armed.

“It’s okay, Promise,” he said. “Everything’s okay. We’re getting out of here.” He shifted back, and his eyes scanned the darkness of the lab, and then he looked down at Edwards. “Can we move him? Or is he…?”

“I don’t know,” she said and sat back on her heels. She picked up Edwards’ hand, whispering. “Doctor? Doctor Edwards, can you hear me?”

His eyelids fluttered, and then his eyes opened. He winced. “My head…it’s splitting…” He squeezed Promise’s fingers. “You gave me my nitro. That’s why my head is so…thank you,” he said and sighed. “Thank you, Promise.”